Not according to the book of Job!
For the first 28 chapters Job is under the continued harassment and accusation of his friends that the cause of his epic suffering must be the presence of extraordinary sin in his life. In Chapters 29 and 30 Job shares the sweetness of the “friendship of God” prior to the cataclysm of pain and loss that now engulfs him. And In contradiction to their repeated assertions of his unrepentant wickedness he makes unhesitating declarations and descriptions of his actual positive holiness (though he never declares himself to be without sin).
Of the many striking and theologically significant aspects of the book of Job, this is one that I think is the most consistently overlooked- how Job defines what it means to be right before God. And I think the reason why we overlook it is because Job does not describe what it means to be a “good” person or righteous man or woman in the way we expect it or to perhaps to put it more pointedly, the way we would like him to define it. For when Job defends the righteousness of his life, which God has already declared of him (Job 1), he does not describe his prayer life, theological knowledge, how frequently he fasts, church offices he holds, etc., but his entire argument is based on how he has dealt with and cared for the orphan, the afflicted, and the needy.
“because I delivered the poor who cried for help, and the fatherless who had none to help him. The blessing of him who was about to perish came upon me, and I caused the widow’s heart to sing for joy. I put on righteousness, and it clothed me; my justice was like a robe and a turban. I was eyes to the blind and feet to the lame. I was a father to the needy, and I searched out the cause of him whom I did not know.” (Job 29:12-16).
In one of the most emotionally moving scenes of the entire book; Job begs God to act on his behalf for “does not one in a heap of ruins stretch out his hand, and in his disaster cry for help?’ (Job 30:24). In the insanity and desperation of his suffering, Job contrasts the righteousness he has shown the afflicted and the lack of goodness Job feels displayed in God’s silence. “Have I not wept for the one whose life is hard? Was not my soul grieved for the needy?” (Job 30:25)
Could you sum up your life that way? Would that be how you would define righteousness? If you were making an appeal to God on account of your right standing before Him, your “goodness” – is this what you would say? Perhaps one of the most important lessons we need to learn from Job is not only patience (perseverance) in the midst of difficulty, but also a passion for those whose whole lives are difficult.
According to the World Health Organization (WHO), 2 out of every 10 people worldwide have an intellectual or physical disability. That is approximately 650 million people. They further estimate that 80% of people with a disability live in the developing world. According to Special Olympics International there are an estimated 200 million individuals worldwide with an intellectual disability.
What I would be interested in knowing is how in the world did they come up with those figures, since in most of sub-Saharan Africa, as an example, children who are born with an intellectual or physical disability were specifically not registered at birth. So, therefore, they could not possibly be counted, if statistics were counted merely from birth records. Census attempts would likely prove just as fruitless since nearly every African home, village, or compound, by cultural norm will deny the presence and existence of a child, or children with disabilities.
By way of anecdote, I visited a compound in Zambia, accompanied by a long-time community leader, and asked the leader where the families of intellectual disabilities that we could visit were. Though it was a compound of over 10,000 people, he said that he didn’t know of any, but suggested that there was an elderly woman who had lived in the compound far longer than he, and perhaps she would know if there had been any. As I met the woman, I again asked her my question, “were there any children in the compound who had disabilities?” And she quickly answered, “no, we don’t have any of those”.
Considering that perhaps my request was unclear, I went on to describe in detail the nature and kind of various disabilities and children that I work with, and once again, she said “no, we don’t have any of those”. I was completely shocked. I was perplexed. Here was a statistical miracle. In a compound of 10, 000 of some of the poorest in Zambia, not a single individual could be found who was disabled! Statistically speaking, there should be over 2,000 individuals!
Not knowing what else to do, I took out a picture of my family, and said to the woman, “this is remarkable, an entire compound and no one with disabilities! In my family, I have three.” She took the photograph from my hand, looking at each of my children who have Down syndrome, and finally looked up at me and said, without any explanation, “there are three families who live right over there who have children like yours”.
I visited those three families. In each of these three families, it followed the same pattern. The initial denial in the doorway, the careful looking at our family photo, and then the very kind welcome into their home. Each of these families supplied us with more families, and within an hour we had families seeking us, asking “are you the man whose children have disabilities?”. According to the families I spoke with, the WHO’s estimation of 2 out of every 10 was far lower than their experience in this compound. And, yet, they were invisible. Invisible, even if you were looking for them. Invisible, perhaps until it was clear you were one of them.
On my flight home from Africa, I “just so happened” to be seated next to a consultant with one of the largest child health and welfare organizations in the world. And, I shared with him my experience in the compound. He agreed that the statistics they have for children with disabilities have no basis on actual children with disabilities.
The tragic reality is that the phenomena described here portrays not really a weakness or poor methodology in statistical representations, but belies far greater consequences for children and individuals with disabilities. First, the routine practice in sub-Saharan Africa of not registering births of children who have disabilities means that they have no formal or legal status. They can’t get a passport, have no legal or political rights, and are often then denied medical and financial assistance. Second, their is virtually no accountability for caretakers, for both community and international aid and welfare organizations often have no knowledge of the true nature of their care and condition, since they are hidden away.
As the old phrase goes, ‘out of sight, out of mind’. But perhaps that’s really how we like it.